Sleeping in the Light
by striga viridis
Summary: At the end of happily ever after. Angsty fluff, slash.


**Sleeping in the light**

_It always means so much, even the softest touch_  
Bob Dylan, _Standing in the Doorway_

He returns from work early. It's still light outside, and he can see the lonely crow-like figure on the porch: Severus is waiting for him, as usual. Harry is still far away from the house, so he can't see the haggard face, or how gray the longish hair has become in the last few months. And yet, a cold small voice inside him whispers: "This is your happiness. Look your fill while you can, because soon you'll be alone". He tells the voice to shut up and strides briskly towards their home.

Their more-than-fifty-year-long home. Wizards live long, and the first cherry tree the two of them planted near the house died a long time ago, leaving a whole grove of new trees behind. Harry had never expected Snape to have a green thumb. At school, and even much, much later he had pictured Severus taking things apart, turning them, probably against their will, into something else, not quite dead, but not alive anymore, either. Only when they moved together and Severus started the garden, did Harry see this other kind of magic – magic of all things living, breathing and growing under Snape's watchful eye.

Warm July wind rustles in the trees, magical scarecrow is quiet now that the cherries have come and gone, birds having come and gone along with them. It's a bit darker under the trees, the rays of setting sun are caught in the leaves, but Harry still can see the house. Severus must have seen him too by now – the porch is deserted. Harry knows that by the time he reaches the house the kettle will be whistling and Snape will be sitting at the table reading something undecipherable.

And so it is. Severus puts down the tome and eyes Harry sarcastically. Only his voice belies him, it sounds too warm when he asks, "How was your day?" Harry sets two cups on the table while blathering away. Usual stuff – the Ministry, the Magical Safety Department ("The choice of name is rather ironic, don't you think", he remembers Snape saying, "your job having everything to do with dark magic and nothing to do with safety"). It has been almost thirty years to the day since he headed the newly created department.

Now the bureaucratic machine is working smoothly, the aurors are well-trained, and Harry can afford to semi-retire, so that he can spend more time with Severus. Now that Severus has more time, too – lately he has been able to work a couple of hours in the morning and then to continue for two hours more in the afternoon, after a long break. His projects, for the last twenty years, have been so much above the general level of Wizarding knowledge that Harry had to give up and accept the fact that he wouldn't be able to keep up with any kind of intellectual conversation on the topic.

The first two decades after the war, it seemed to Harry that Severus managed to be in a few places at the same time, reminding him of Hermione during their third year at Hogwarts. It was as if Severus wanted to make up for years spent on something other than his academic pursuits, which turned out to be, as Horace Slughorn put it once, "unimaginably ambitious".

Harry never said a word – he himself used to get this frantic feeling of need – need to do everything he had wanted to do in his life but had never actually hoped to. As if they both were living on borrowed time. It took them many years to realize that the war had really been left behind and that they had all the time in the world… Or so it seemed, then.

They go to bed when it gets dark. The window is open and the moonless black sky dotted with stars looks into their room. Severus settles on his pile of pillows – he has been having problems breathing lately, so he has to sleep half-sitting – and gives Harry a warning glare.

Harry takes off his glasses, shrugs defiantly and lights the wand – not the harsh blue light of Lumos, just a soft orange glow, almost candle-like, but still Severus is displeased.

"How many times do I have to tell you…"

"Not to leave the light on, I know, I know", Harry answers a bit irritably and then adds, unconvincingly, "I'll put it out… later, ok?"

"As you wish", Severus answers dryly, then sighs and says, "Make it brighter then, I want to finish this chapter".

The single candle becomes a whole dozen, the bedroom is lit with their soft glow – white sheets on the bed, dark wooden floor, the door leading to the corridor left ajar – the creak is wide enough for the cat to squeeze in and out of the room. Severus is reading, slightly squinting at the yellowed pages and Harry pretends to read, too, while stealing looks at the hawkish profile half-obscured by the steel-gray hair, at the thin chest under the nightgown, at the long-fingered hands holding the book.

Half an hour passes and Snape puts down the volume.

"Put out your damnable light, would you?"

"All right", Harry agrees, knowing all too well that he'll light the wand again the minute Severus falls asleep.

At first, it's pitch dark, but his sight adjusts gradually and after a minute or so he is able to make out Severus' head on the pillow. His eyes are closed, but it's hard to tell whether he's asleep or not. Suddenly Severus sighs and says, without opening his eyes,

"Harry. Quit it this moment".

"What?" Harry stalls ineffectually.

"You know what. This".

Then, still with his eyes closed, Severus adds:

"Take my hand. Here. I'm not leaving you".

The word "yet", left unsaid, hangs in the air. Harry takes the fragile hand into his and is surprised by the warmth. Severus squeezes his hand slightly, and Harry stares at the dimly lit face. There is no "yet", he tells himself fiercely. There is only now. And in the now, Severus is not leaving him. Ever.


End file.
